“I will say that I still can't get over how women are shaped, and that I will go to my grave wanting to pet their butts and boobs.”

“My cat stood still like a furry statue. I wanted to go pet it, but I ended up petting a painting instead. Ah, but that’s life, no?”

“You're flying to Chicago to get drunk and have other women shake their boobs in your face.""If it bothers you, I won't go," he said seriously."No," I kicked at the table leg. "It doesn't bother me. Maybe I'm just jealous.""Jealous? You're not the jealous type.""Maybe I want boobs shaken in my face.”

“It's not what I'd want for at my funeral. When I die, I just want them to plant me somewhere warm. And then when the pretty women walk over my grave I would grab their ankles, like in that movie.”

“Bob," I said over my shoulder. "Tell her it's me.""Can't," Bob said in a dreamy tone. "Boobs.”

“I can't explain why I think I can get there, when all the odds are against me. But I do. Even when a big part of me is saying I should give up, I can't. Even when I don't want to keep going, I still do it”